pain and strife
by halo4hire
Summary: this is an oc modeled after bman and steel, there will be a lot of profanity and gore and possibly sex, if that doesn't float your boat, head for shore. chap 1 is just an introduction to Derrick Solstice, a struggling blacksmith with a hero worship complex. this story is currently being rewritten and modified so i guess this is just the demo
1. prologue pt 1

Three years ago today

Revenge: To inflict punishment for insult or injury; to seek vengeance for oneself or another. This one word that is borne of grief, pain, or strife can bring one to the brink of madness or even further. This was the only thing that ran through the shadows mind as he glided across the rooftops. The pain of his loss, too fresh to be forgotten weighed heavy on his heart. He had failed them. He had let himself become complacent and allowed them to be too close to him and caused their pain. He was responsible for the tragedy that befell his wife. He was responsible for the death of his closest friend and ally. If only he could have been faster. At least the monster that took his best friend had died from the fight, and while he was still upset about that, he could do nothing about it. His wife on the other hand…

The shadow came to a rest upon a stone monolith that would've resembled a gargoyle had the face not have been weathered away. Peering over the edge, the shadow surveyed the ground below watching for signs of activity. Pressing a hidden button on his gauntlet, he activated he thermal scanner, allowing opaque lenses to click over his eyes, showing him the two guards behind the door. Deactivating the lens' he looked around the area, taking stock of the environment that he would fight on. Not a lot of light, which played well into his way of doing things, unless it was a trap. He stepped back to take inventory of everything he had with him. 27 folded batarangs; 4 sonic, 3 electric, 5 explosive, 6 remote controlled, and 9 regulars; three full cartridges of his explosive gel, as well as the gel applier, 6 bola, 12 thermite grenades, his grapple gun and line launcher, some adhesive gel or "goo globules" , 53 gas pellets and his rebreather. Everything else he deemed unnecessary. He went back to his vantage point and looked back at the threshold of the warehouse. This was going to be his last mission. One way or another after this he was going to hang up his cape for good. After this, his daughter would not want for anything. The shadows eyes filmed over as he remembered the day he became a father. He had never thought he could be so happy, even compared with when the reformed cat burglar accepted his proposal to marry. He didn't deserve it and fate, it seemed, agreed; he only deserved misery. It was only by the grace of God that little Helena was with Tim visiting in Metropolis when that maniac found his way to the shadows home.

Clicking his sonic amplifier on the ear of his cowl, he listened in to the conversation the guards by the door were having, hoping for a way to avoid them and raising an alarm. It didn't matter to him one way or another, two men or a thousand, he would get the man he was after, but they could wait. He was only after one man, the one man that was intelligent enough to work out his alias; the one man crazy enough to mutilate his wife, shoot his friends daughter in the back and rape her as she bled out on the ground; the one man he was responsible for creating.

Looking at the second floor, he noticed one of the widows was missing a pane of glass. The opening was just big enough to send an r.c.b. through and not be seen. He flicked one open and activated the internal motor that helped control the bladed gizmo. After making sure the motor inside was working and the camera was properly relaying the video directly to his cowl's lenses, he cocked back his arm and threw the gadget with the skill of several years of practice. When the batarangs was far enough he started the motor inside of it making it spin faster, while using a balanced internal weight to control the flight pattern. Switching back to the display in his cowl, he monitored the progress the weapon made toward the broken window. When it completed its journey and entered the building, he spun the camera around to do a 360 of the room. Sure that the room was empty he reversed the internal motor and changed the direction of the batarang, bringing it back to him.

He equipped one of his remaining sonic batarangs with some of the adhesive and turned it on a low powered frequency, high enough to shatter glass at a few feet but low enough the it can't be detected by untrained ears. Again he threw with skill; the batarang went flying towards the window, where it stuck into the frame. All the glass in a 5 foot radius cracked and fell quietly away, most disintegrating into dust before it reached the ground. Aiming the line launcher, he set the anchor in the chimney behind him and launched the line.

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i felt this was a good stopping point. for those who have already figured out who the shadow is, hold off in revealing it. between class and work, it has taken me forever to write this. i hope you enjoy the rest of the story. like i said in pain and strife, i am completely re doing it, so if you have ideas, feel free to share. this will be a crossover ff, between two well known comic book families since i am a HUGE fan of both. (not meaning dc/marvel, though you gotta admit the marvel has some great ideas, as does dc) i plan to keep to my original idea of Derek Solstice and everything but i felt a need to refurbish the story as it seemed lacking to me.


	2. Chapter 1

Derrick was at a loss. His work sat in front of him like it was a lump of metal, probably due to the fact that it was a lump of metal, sitting in front of him on a super-heated forge. He could forge anything out of it, and that was his problem. All the training, mental preparations, watching the heroes do their thing gave him the inspirations he needed but what was he going to become. Just about every code name and job title imaginable was taken already; he had no super powers that he knew of, no endless array of gadgets to draw from, and no mystical prowess to entertain. He studied everything he could tried everything, but in the end he seemed as useless as a magikarp with an everstone. He pumped on the bellows to heat up the forge and started to try and purify the metal in front of him, doing his best to separate the impurities from the molten ore. Now what? He had a hot liquid with no idea what to make out of it. He could make another sword but he had way too many of them as it was; another hammer, perhaps; a shuriken? The least he could do was make bars out of the polished melt, to use sometime later. It took him thirty minutes to be finished; he used his tongs to move the cooling rods into the cold water he kept nearby. It seemed blacksmithing was all he was good at, even though he yearned for so much more. Hearing about the fabled batman and his guarded group of friends, seeing the teen titans on the news, reading about how superman and his ilk saved mankind yet again from itself yet again, all of it he hoarded, all of it inspired him, and yet he met a block every time he tried to join them. He couldn't build a powerful cybernetic suit like Luthor does when he fight the man of steel, so what could he do? He had trained in martial art since he was a child; he learned the trade of black smithy from his grandfather and brother, both of whom couldn't even stand to be in the same room as one another. He sighed out loud and picked up his favorite sword. If nothing, it was a small comfort, knowing he could swing the eighty pound broad sword with the unerring accuracy of the ancient Vikings. He had struggled with it before, but after years upon years of working with it, honing the titanium coated steel blade until it had a perfect balance, training with its weight, and the weight of his smithing hammer, his muscles had grown taut and abundant. Through years of study he had forged his own form of fighting with the heavy paper weight, dedicating it to his subconscious. He held it above his head feeling out its weight, before bringing it down in a viscous arc, stopping just before it hit the block of wood he used as a training dummy. Holding it there he felt its weight out again, barely straining his muscles. He swirled around switching the sword into a form of underhand trying to bring the weight completely through the block of wood, though only making it a third of the way. Disappointed, he sighed; no matter how hard he tried he could never make it through to his goal.

"In here quick!" a voice coming from outside his workshop. Before Derrick could find out where the disturbance was coming from, the shop door slammed open off its hinges landing three feet away from the threshold. In the doorway stood a giant of a man, decked in what appeared to be a biker's outfit, complete with spikes. The man let out a loud breath and collapsed, revealing a smaller silhouette. The silhouette was unmistakably female, but Derrick couldn't see further than that.

"Sorry 'bout the door friend" the silhouette said as she walked into the room, "he almost gave me a run for my money"

The woman was dressed in all black with some gold outlining the outfit. Across her chest was the outline of the infamous bat symbol.

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i decided i'm going to rework this chapter, not because i dont think its good enough, but because i want to work a little alternate reality history into it. your ideas are most welcome, so lets see where this goes shall we?

not much of a big difference from the demo, but hey i couldn't think of a to change it. i plan to build derrick slowly but surely into strife, my vigilante anti hero, and with the appearance of batgirl i hope it will at least give me something to really work with. the whole idea was really just a spitball that a friend of mine and i were rolling around in our heads, so i took the initiative to write the story. thank you again amsf and nightwing fan, for your incredible input and advice. without your help i never would've had a name for derrick's alter ego. i realise that its a little short, but its still in progress so cut me a little slack, i'm still new to the whole fanfic thing. as i mentioned in the demo (if you read it) all reviews and advice are always welcome, and troll's i challenge you to come up with comedy genius that one of my characters can use.

**i do not own anything to do with dc, cept the few games i bought from gamestop. this is strictly a fanfic, so please, no sueing.**

if you would like to send advice or ideas, you can contact me here through pm, through my psn account gothic_thunder88 or through my gmail account (pm me to get that)


	3. this is not chapter 2

Name: Heath Alexander

Alias: the butcher

age:27

height: 6'11"

Psychological issues: mild anti sociality, obsessive compulsive disorder, sociopathic.

Modus operandi: victims are found with sever open fractures on all four limbs, fibula broken forward and out past the tibia, coming out the front of the lower leg and extending above the patella; ulna brought forward and out the side of the fore arm and extending pass the elbow. Following with inch deep laceration in a horizontal pattern separated in exact measurements apart; each exactly ½ inch apart, marking where he intends to sever the limbs. Victims often found unfinished when the patient fails to make perfect cuts, causing him to leave a large meat cleaver in said victims head.

Psychologist's notes: why? Just…. why?

Biography: as an only child, the patient was the sole focus of an alcoholic abusive step father and a drug addict mother. From a young age alexander has kept to himself, only talking when spoken to. Patient exhibits higher than average IQ, making straight grades from the 1rst grade to his graduating year of high school. Superiority complex, believes the world belongs to him, should he be rejected, Alexander has admitted that he would sit and contemplate the capture and ultimately kill the rejecter. Patient has also admitted he enjoys torturing his victims, his own words being "I enjoy the screams of those that reject me. I find it reminds me of my father and mother, both of whom found that they enjoyed the taste of my meat cleaver. However it has to be perfect. Why is it never perfect? Will you make it perfect?" On this note, I was unable to note anything else as I left the room rather in a hurry.

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**author's note: sorry folks for the beef jerky when you're expecting prime rib, but i have had a lot of things going on as well and attending college. writing is not one of my niches but i'm trying. this is more or less a batman/superman universe crossover so don't hate me if i get some things wrong. think of it as a alternate universe that i'm putting a original character in. when i'm having writers block or just busy i might post one of these short bios for the villain i plan to implement later in the story**

_**amazing spider-fan= thank you for your help as well as ideas for derrick**_

_**nightwing fan= i appreciate your support and right now i have an idea, but in the words of a great man: "ideas are forgotten or altered so as to which, they are untrustworthy."- Phillip D. Burnette. my original plan was to give derrick the ability to absorb and implement powers of any cape he came across with out any of they're weakness, but i had to revise it after thinking about the fact i plan to introduce super girl and green lantern for the JLA. yeah, one man with all the powers of the JLA? over powered to the extreme! so i've come to the conclusion that he will be akin more towards batman and green arrow, no super powers and severly well trained in the art of kicking ass.**_


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